Abe Kobo's Coffeeshop Friendship Circle
by creatoriginsane
Summary: "My name is Abe Kobo, and I'm looking for ability users. If you're interested, please come to the old coffeeshop downtown; that's where we meet during Wednesdays. It's more of a support group than anything." AU: Imagine Bungou Stray Dogs with (a lot) more characters.
1. blood on her hands

**Abe Kobo's Coffeeshop Friendship Circle**

* * *

 _"My name is Abe Kobo, and I'm looking for ability users. If you're interested, please come to the old coffeeshop downtown; that's where we meet during Wednesdays. It's more of a support group than anything."_

 _AU: Imagine Bungou Stray Dogs with (a lot) more characters._

* * *

 _"My talent was the uncompromising ability to feel spite."_

 _Kirino Natsuo is a mercenary. Enchi Fumiko is a nurse._

* * *

"It is done."

She says this into the receiver. Her hands are dripping crimson and her body is battered. The walls are splattered with blood. Three men are dead. There is a bullet in her thigh, but she doesn't wince.

"Excellent. You should expect your full payment in due time."

She hisses.

"You promised me tomorrow."

"Yes, well, I'm not in control of the money around here, so you'd have to wait like everyone else."

She throws the phone to the wall and it shatters upon impact. With a swift flick of her wrist, the blood disappears from the room. The bullet in her thigh bites harder and digs deeper into her leg. She doesn't wince.

When she returns home, she fishes out the bullet herself and breathes quietly into the silence.

* * *

"You should have called me."

There is a young woman in front of her, wearing a white button-down blouse and a burgundy skirt, her hands clothed in pristine surgical gloves.

"It was just a bullet."

They both know this scene by heart, the young nurse tending to the wounds of the veteran, but she is no soldier and the younger woman is no innocent nurse. The last rays of sunlight stream into the room and there are parts of the other woman's face that she cannot see in the dim light. She breathes unsteadily, inhales and exhales without daring to move. The wound in her thigh is bleeding, still bleeding, when the woman reaches out to touch it, rubbery fingers skimming against her skin.

"Does it still hurt?"

The woman's hand stills against the gauze and she pulls away.

"No."

The woman looks at her with such warmth that she could almost be mistaken for the sun, but that is a lie. The young woman before her is no sun, although that is what she strives to be: big and bright and remembered.

"Nothing should ever hurt." She whispers as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind dark storm clouds.

* * *

Her name is Enchi Fumiko.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

She asks this to the woman on the bed, bloody and battered is her body, but the fact that she responds with a grunt and a slow, slight shake of her head should be proof enough that she is fine, just tired. But because Fumiko is new to this job of taking care of people and gauging their pain (and because Fumiko wants so, so much to take away everyone's pain), she tells the doctor to give the woman at least three days to recuperate.

She has lost so much blood, Enchi-kun. The doctor chides. Wouldn't it be better to give her a blood transfusion first?

Fumiko sees the woman's eyes shift, widen a little, and hears a pained, startled gasp ripping from her throat. In her mind, Fumiko thinks the woman is saying no.

"I will test her blood, then." She replies automatically, before turning to her and revealing an empty syringe from her pocket. "This might sting a little." She tells her.

The needle pricks into her skin, and she refuses to let it take a drop of her blood, but she is too tired and her crimson blood flows into the syringe. Fumiko searches the woman's eyes for any hint of pain, but there is nothing.

Later, when another needle is struck into the woman's arm to transfer AB+ blood, Fumiko hears the woman scream and sees her rip out the needle. Blood trickles to the floor and there is a thin blade made of blood pressing against Fumiko's cheek and she remembers who this woman is. Her mouth quivers in fear and that is when the woman speaks to her for the first time.

"Please. Don't."

The woman's voice is hoarse and rough and tired. The blade presses into Fumiko's cheek and she is afraid, but the solidified blood soon melts and drips down her face, her neck, seeps into her clothes and falls onto the floor. The woman breathes hard and loud and she has already lost so much blood.

"I'm sorry."

Fumiko says as she ties the woman's hands to the bed and sticks the needle into her arm again. The woman cries and shrieks and Fumiko wipes the blood off the floor.

"This is not my blood." The woman says. "Take it out of me, please."

Her name is Enchi Fumiko and she apologizes again and again until the woman succumbs to slumber. This is how they meet again, the woman a high-class murderer, and Fumiko, the young, utterly compassionate nurse.

A year has passed since then, and nothing has changed.

* * *

"Grotesque."

Her blood seeps from the fresh wound on her arm and spills to the floor, flows around her like a viper ready to strike, coils around her like mist on a foggy day. There is a man standing in front of her and he is terrified, just as he ought to be.

"You promised him three days. I will be collecting the money."

She has the man cornered in a back alley where no one ever looks. The man's hands shiver in anticipation before he pulls out a gun from behind him and shoots. Twice. A bullet hits her shoulder and another hits her arm.

"Over my dead body!"

The fear and the frustration in his voice makes the blood warmer, thicker, and when she looks at him straight in the eye, she breathes in deep and dares him to pull the trigger again.

"You don't have the money yet."

She states, eyes levelling with his as the bullets he shot into her exit her body. Blood flows out of the fresh wounds and he feels sick just looking at the sight, but he doesn't waver. He holds the gun steady in his hands against his erratic breathing. A car passes by, but pays them no mind. No one can see them in this place, after all.

"We will give you three more days. If you are unable to comply, we will have your life."

The man doesn't thank her, in fact he doesn't say anything. He lowers the gun and falls to his knees, silently begging her for mercy and compassion; he is just a man, and money isn't everything in this world, right?

Her blood coils around his neck and lifts him easily from the ground.

"Do not ask for my mercy." She says, eyes cold and unfeeling, "You must pay for it."

She leaves the man with a shallow cut around his neck, a choker of blood to mark him as separate from all the rest.

Three days later, the man is found dead in the bathtub of his own apartment, blood spilling from his neck and into the lukewarm water.

* * *

Her name is Kirino Natsuo.

"We will be contacting you again if something unsavory comes up."

There is a thick envelope shoved into her hand and the man in front of her sits languidly in his chair as he always does. Three months have passed and she has already rid him and his associates of thirteen people from their kill list, and she has earned enough to pay her rent for the next four months in full and still have enough money to dine at the expensive, exuberant restaurant from across the street twice a day.

"Of course." She replies automatically.

"Many thanks, Kirino-san." The man says as she leaves the door, "You have aided this company far better than any one of those fools."

She breathes deeply as the door shuts behind her. She heads home immediately and sheds her clothes off her body, peeling away articles of soiled, bloodied clothing and thinking to herself if there would ever be a day where she could wear bright colors and vibrant patterns like Fumiko. The younger woman had a stylish air about her person, often dressing herself in bright shades of yellow and green to match the summer season, and warm shades of brown and burgundy come the cold rain.

She sighs as she removes the last piece of clothing. She watches herself in the mirror, almost completely naked save for her underwear, and eyes her body longingly, from the large cut down her chest, to the smaller cuts littering her arms, and to the old wounds and fresh scars on her legs. She doesn't count them, feels that they are too many, feels that they are unimportant, feels that they are just a part of her that have existed from the very start.

"Nothing will hurt." She tells herself. "Nothing should ever hurt."

She rinses her clothes in the sink and sees so much red in them that she considers buying new ones instead.

Kirino Natsuo has only ever worn black.

She steps into the shower and washes herself under the rushing water, rubs her skin and sees flecks of red dripping to the tile, but not for long. There is a reason why she chooses warm showers over warmer baths.

"The blood will wash away. Just as it always has." She mutters as she watches the red turn to pink, and then to clear, clean water and wishes for it to be the same for her.

Kirino Natsuo has always been bloody.

* * *

"Kill on sight."

The command was simple enough to follow, and yet she cannot bring herself to do it.

There is a child in the crib and the husband is tied to a dining chair in the next room. The older woman in front of her cowers in fear, tears staining her cheeks and her fingers, shaking. She owes the company almost a million yen and it is time for her to pay.

"Please! Give me more time!" The woman pleads, clutching at her leg, her nails digging into her skin.

"We have given you three days."

"What lunatic would think that three days are enough to earn a million yen?!"

She pushes the woman away. "Do you know how much they have paid me to kill you?"

The woman doesn't answer.

"A lot of money." She answers bluntly. "It doesn't make sense to you, why they would spend even more money when they've already lost so much. But the fact is, once you're gone, everything you own will be turned over to the company." She points to the crib, "Possibly even your child."

"They can't do that! I owe them nothing!"

"Then you will die."

"Please!"

A spike of her blood comes up from under the woman and penetrates her heart. The baby cries loudly in its crib and the husband howls mutely into the gag around his mouth. She failed to state the woman's other option on purpose. It was either she die or she, along with her family, be sold on the Black Market. Kirino has decided that death is the best option, as she places the child on the father's lap and removes the gag from the man's mouth.

"You monster! I hope you rot in hell!"

"Forgive me."

Two spikes come up and pierce the man's chest and the child's heart, and a perverse imagining of Michaelangelo's _Pieta_ appears before her and she apologizes again.

Kirino Natsuo thinks that it is better for them to stay together in death, rather than to live separately in this cruel, callous world.


	2. false bamboo groves

**Abe Kobo's Coffeeshop Friendship Circle**

* * *

 _"My name is Abe Kobo, and I'm looking for ability users. If you're interested, please come to the old coffeeshop downtown; that's where we meet during Wednesdays. It's more of a support group than anything."_

 _AU: Imagine Bungou Stray Dogs with (a lot) more characters._

* * *

 _"She has a peculiar power to move events in whatever direction she pleases, while she stays motionless."_

 _Abe Kobo and Mishima Yukio are two men Fumiko did not expect. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, however..._

* * *

"Nothing ever hurts."

She repeats the woman's words in her mind as she scrubs her hands clean, wondering if the inability to feel pain nor suffering is because of the woman's gift or if it is because of her nature, her profession.

Mercenary. Killer. Murderer.

The unconscious woman in front of her is known in some circles as Bloody Mary, after the fabled bloody ghost that supposedly hides in every bathroom mirror known to middle-school girls, and she is gifted with Grotesque.

"I wonder if you are only saying that to wish the pain away."

She wondered how she was able to live to this day with the knowledge of Bloody Mary's true identity, how she was able to escape death because of her sheer luck.

"How lucky you are, Enchi-kun." The doctor had told her, "to escape without even a scratch."

Back then, the doctor had a bleeding gash on his arm and a stab wound on his shoulder. He was about to give Bloody Mary a blood transfusion, but even Bloody Mary herself can succumb to the slumber forcibly brought upon by blood loss.

 _"Pure luck, indeed."_

But she is no rabbit's foot, nor is she a four-leaf clover, and she is most certainly not a leprechaun. She is merely an innocent child without a scratch on her face, nor on any part of her body; pure and pristine, a precious porcelain doll set atop the highest shelf-and if she would fall, they will simply put her back on again. She is unbreakable.

No. She doesn't believe in luck.

* * *

What she believes in, however, is the fact that there are people just like her-cursed with things they call 'abilities' and forced to live with them without reason or explanation. She realizes this one afternoon outside a small coffeehouse as she is working on a report she was supposed to have submitted two days ago. With little sleep as she is working shifts in the local hospital, she has no time for idle chatter and noise.

But two men approach her; one of them is middle-aged, with graying hair, wearing an expensive-looking coat, and resting one hand on a polished cane, and the other is noticeably younger, around a few years above her, wearing a white dress-shirt under a thick jacket, a pair of dark pants, and well-worn shoes.

The older man shifts forward. "You are Enchi Fumiko, correct?"

She shifts away from them, visibly showing her discomfort and masks it with an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry. You must have-"

The younger man interrupts her, speaks in a monotonous tone: "I am, but I don't know you."

She swallows her nervousness and tells them, "Leave me alone."

"We do not wish you any harm." The older man gives her a smile.

"We know what you are." The younger one adds.

"Ah-ah, Mishima-kun!" The older man is shocked at his partner's statement. "You can't just reveal the truth of everything I say."

"She wouldn't believe you otherwise, Abe-san." He replies.

"I'm sorry." She stands and gathers her things quickly, "You must have the wrong person-"

"We know of your ability, miss." The older man says and she stops. "We are gifted, as well."

At first she doesn't believe them, but when she looks at the older man, she could have sworn he had changed his face to that of the younger man's.

"What did you do?"

"Freak." The younger man chides.

"My name is Abe Kobo," the older man introduces himself before putting a hand against the younger man's back, "and this young gentleman right here is Mishima Yukio, and we are gifted just like you."

She shakes her head. "You don't know that. No one's supposed to know that."

Mishima replies with the same monotonous tone, "Who the fuck do these people think they are? If they did anything to my family-"

Abe stops Mishima from saying anything further. "Now, now, Mishima-kun, don't scare her."

Fumiko thinks that the younger man's ability is either to tell the truth or to outright annoy people. She huffs, tightening the hold on her bag before turning to them completely. "What do you want?"

"Mishima-kun and I are currently forming a gathering of those gifted with abilities, a support group of sorts."

She hasn't heard of any support group within the past few years for people who are struggling with living with so-called 'gifts' that they haven't asked for, and calls bluff on the man's statement. For all she knows, they might be exploiting those people for their own gain or worse, selling those people overseas.

"I'm not interested."

Abe turns to Mishima in the hopes of him revealing a reversal of her words, but all he got was a shrug and a quick exhale.

Abe sighs and pulls out his trump card, stating, "The Armed Detective Agency can only do so much for the victims of the Port Mafia."

Fumiko hesitates in her words and remembers all those admitted to the hospital with reasons of being caught in the crossfire between the Mafia and some other company they want to bring down. They had no part in the violence, and yet they were the ones that had to pay.

"Would you reconsider?"

She doesn't give her yes, but she doesn't give a no either.

"Give me time, sir."

She doesn't give them her address or her email. She has a feeling that they'll meet again.

* * *

Her name is Enchi Fumiko.

"Another victim?"

There is an empty syringe in her hands and clean scalpel in the other. She is a simple nurse by profession, but today she is the doctor's assistant in an emergency procedure currently being applied to a foreigner who has been shot in the leg. The pale-haired man squirms under their hold and mutters something in a language she can only vaguely understand; the man is Italian. She sticks the needle into the man's bare thigh-thank the heavens he's wearing board shorts-and waits for him to quiet down.

The anesthetic swims into his veins.

"Can you feel this?" She asks the man in Italian as she pats his thigh. He shakes his head.

"How about this?" She asks again as she presses a fingernail into his skin.

He glances downward before looking up at her and mouthing a, "No."

She pulls back and turns to the man beside her. "He's ready, doctor."

He smiles broadly. "As always, Enchi-kun, you have proven to be quite adept at your profession."

"Think little of it, doctor." She unpacks the rest of the medical instruments and lays them in front of her. "All I ever do around here is stab people with needles."

"Nonetheless. I am very thankful for you, Enchi-kun." He picks up a cotton swab and pours alcohol right into the man's open wound. "You might want to continue studying medicine."

"Yes, doctor." She presses her lips into a fine line. "I might." She mutters.

The operation proceeds. Honestly, they could have done without the anesthesia and pull out the bullet right then and there, but it was due to the doctor's insistence that the man feel as little pain as possible when he fishes out the bullet from his knee.

And when he does, the look on the man's face is of shock and relief rather than pain and comfort.

"Thank you. How much do I pay?" The man asks in hesitant English as she bandages his wound. She looks to the doctor, who simply replies with:

"None." The doctor replies in English. "Just being a good doctor."

She helps the man up and watches as he proceeds by walking-limping away from them. When the man is out of sight, she shoots a scowl towards the doctor.

"You'd do the same thing, wouldn't you Enchi-kun?" The doctor laughs.

If only they knew that the bullet in the man's leg was meant for his head. If only she walked a little bit to the left of the man instead of right behind him, then she and the doctor would've been witness to a murder right in the middle of the street. But, rather fortunately, she has saved this foreign man by blocking a sniper's line of sight and endangering her own life.

Well, consider him lucky and call her Lady Luck.

Enchi Fumiko is not Lady Luck.

The doctor removes the gloves from his hands and tosses them to a nearby bin as be says, "Doing one good deed a day keeps the devil at bay."

"Just one?" She raises a brow.

"At least one." He nods.

"Well," She sighs. "I think I've reached my quota for the day."

On her way home, she witnesses a mugging and does nothing to stop them. But, as always, she manages to save the victim from being robbed and killed simply by existing. One of the muggers tells the other to chase after her while he keeps this other victim from escaping. They have what they want, so why?

In the next few seconds, the two assailants stop and begin moving strangely. The one after her readies the switchblade in his hand and turns to the other, whose gun is aimed towards him. And in the next few seconds, one person is stabbed and another is shot. The victim, in fear, scampers away and leaves the rest of his belongings scattered on the ground.

She calls for an ambulance before picking up the victim's discarded wallet, still quite full of cash, and decides to order takeout instead of eating canned meat.

"At least one good deed a day." She repeats the doctor's words as she walks home.

Enchi Fumiko is a nice girl, a kind, compassionate girl, but sometimes she wished that was all she is.

* * *

It is early in the afternoon when she returns to the hospital after coming from the pharmacy. Her mentor, Osanai Kaoru, greets her in a hushed whisper and tells her to close the door immediately. When she does, he stands behind his desk at the far end of the room and she can hear a gun click.

There is a loaded gun in Dr. Osanai's shaking hand.

"Doctor, what are you doing?"

"There is a murderer in the hospital, Enchi-kun." The doctor whispers.

"There is always a murderer in the hospital, Dr. Osanai." She replies, "And most of the time the murderer is a patient."

"But this time he isn't." The doctor says and Fumiko feels herself grow cold. The doctor couldn't possibly lie, could he?

"I should have told you to go home, Enchi-kun." The doctor thinks aloud. "But the murderer arrived a few minutes after you did."

How the doctor knew such things, she would never completely know. Maybe his current girlfriend from the guards assigned to surveillance told him. In any case, this would be one of the reasons why she refuses to believe in luck. It would also be one of the reasons why she wishes her gift was the ability to turn the tide in her favor, make her the living embodiment of luck.

In her mind, she is bitter, she is afraid, but when she looks at the doctor's quivering face and shaking hands, she pushes the thoughts aside and attempts to be a hero.

"Don't worry, doctor." She says. "What are the chances of a random criminal coming to us?"

It's true. They're on the sixth floor, and usually madmen murderers would only be able to reach until the second or third. To Fumiko, the doctor is simply exaggerating, they wouldn't be harmed at all…

 _"Rashomon."_

The door bursts open, the gun is fired, but the bullet falls to the tile.

"Y-you!"

Dr. Osanai is pinned to the wall behind his desk. Three black, snake-like creatures shoot from beyond the door and clamp around the doctor's neck and wrists as she, the young, frightened assistant, looks in horror.

"Dr. Osanai. I bear you no harm."

-But he is no Dr. Frankenstein and she is no naïve Igor, and the murderer outside the door is no half-dead monster.

So she scowls.

 _Call her Lady Luck, for she brings fortune to opportune murderers._

* * *

"Dr. Osanai. I have one question."

His name is Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

He, to Osanai Kaouru, is a pale and quite sickly young man who works as the Port Mafia's more intimidating figures. However, it bothers him why they would send a killer to extract information from a mere doctor like him.

Osanai struggles against the grip, screams loud enough for anyone near to hear him. "I have nothing for the Port Mafia!"

Akutagawa doesn't react to the man's screaming. Surely, no one would come for him.

He continues. "We believe that you have treated one of our targets as of the late. Where is she?"

He shows the doctor a photo of an expensively-dressed woman, a pair of dark glasses covering her eyes, and a lit cigarette placed in-between red lips. To Osanai, that could anyone he's treated over the past six months.

"That could be anyone." He admits.

Fumiko breathes shallowly, having swallowed the rest of her fear. What could she do in this situation? Could she fight him? Expose herself and put her life on the line? Or maybe she could escape.

Run.

 _Run!_

"Perhaps your assistant knows who she is."

Something clamps against her leg, her arm, her neck-she is pulled away from the door and pushed onto the wall beside the doctor. She struggles to breathe against the iron-clad grip around her neck, struggles against the sudden pain inflicted by this man…

"You have seen this woman." Akutagawa shows her the picture.

Of course, who could forget her? Such a beautiful woman being admitted to the hospital with cuts and scratches all over her body and denying any feeling of pain…

"Yes."

The grip tightens and she winces.

"Who is she?"

"We treated her before, doctor." She mutters. "Blood transfusion. She was furious."

Akutagawa scowls, tightens Rashomon around their wrists enough to draw blood.

"Remember, doctor!" She screams.

"I'm sorry…" Osanai whispers.

 _Idiot!_

Before Akutagawa could let Rashomon cut into their necks, Fumiko exclaims:

"Hashioka Mariko!"

She looks into his empty eyes and lets her curse manifest itself.

"A Tale of False Fortunes."

In the next moment, Osanai and Fumiko disappear from Rashomon's grasp, much to Akutagawa's surprise, and the barrel of the doctor's gun is pressed to the back of his head.

"You have what you came for." He hears the woman's voice, feels the minute trembling of her hand. She has never held a gun in her life. He uses Rashomon to shove her away roughly. She falls to the floor. He looks around; the doctor is nowhere is sight.

He stalks towards her, hands in his pockets and Rashomon at the ready.

"An ability user." He looks down on her.

"Hashioka Mariko is the one you're after." She says levelly with him. "Please leave us."

He scoffs, and Rashomon chargers towards her.

She raises a hand, and Rashomon pierces him instead. He only realizes it when he feels a sharp pain in his back and retracts the beast before it could do any more harm.

She is an illusion-type ability user, then.

"You said you meant us no harm." She says from behind him. "I also mean the same thing."

He glares at her from the corner of his eye, sees her trembling hand, sees a red string tied from her middle finger and traces it to his neck.

"Hashioka Mariko lives on the top floor of a hotel owned by the Silver Lining Insurance Company." She says, steadying her breathing, maintaining her composure should he attempt another attack.

He takes her word, "Very well."

Rashomon returns to hide underneath his coat and Fumiko feels a little bit relieved, lowers her hand. "I apologize." She murmurs automatically.

 _"How kind you are,"_ She mocks herself, _"to even apologize to one who dared kill you."_

He only stares at her. Accusing? Mocking? Questioning? She lowers her head and wishes he leave immediately. Moments later, he leaves with a flourish of his coat and she exhales audibly and falls to the floor.

Having narrowly escaped death, she thinks how fucked-up her luck is as she fixes up the room as the doctor's unconscious body is laid on the bed.

"A Tale of False Fortunes." She mutters bitterly as she looks at the red string still tied to her finger, thinks of what would befall her if she would meet him again, if what awaits her is death.

She waits for the thread connecting her to the cloaked murderer disappears; A Tale of False Fortunes only has a limited range, after all.

She scowls, and rubs her palms to her eyes and thinks of better ways to meet her end.

How lucky she is indeed.


	3. three geniuses in a house

**Abe Kobo's Coffeeshop Friendship Circle**

* * *

 _"My name is Abe Kobo, and I'm looking for ability users. If you're interested, please come to the old coffeeshop downtown; that's where we meet during Wednesdays. It's more of a support group than anything."_

 _AU: Imagine Bungou Stray Dogs with (a lot) more characters._

* * *

 _"Lunatics have no age. If we were crazy, you and I, we might be a great deal younger."_

 _Kawabata and Mishima are theives._

* * *

 _"The Master of Go."_

There was only person who believed that the power of memorization can beat anything.

That, and mind-reading.

Or rather, memory-browsing.

Or, mental-stealing.

Or, in other words, mind-fucking.

"No media! No media!"

An 'important' foreigner would often scream to a hoard of reporters and cameramen, journalists and videographers, writers and photographers as they exit a ritzy-looking building in Yokohama.

"No camera! No camera!"

Even in broad daylight, flashes from heavy cameras and resounding 'clicks' from camera-phones would drown his protests and blind his eyes, leaving him with little to no choice but to attempt resistance at the aggression of these people.

"No more! No more!"

The foreigner waves his hands over cameras and faces alike in the grand universal gesture of "fuck off, damn paparazzi." to which they respond with the universal reply of "no" by bombarding still the clearly pissed-off man.

Little do they know that the foreigner was _important_ in more ways than one. Besides being a broker for a multinational company, he was also a doting husband and caring uncle, as well as one of the Port Mafia's chief financiers.

More money flows through Yokohama's underground than it does on the street.

Eventually, the press stop pestering the man because of his tougher-than-steel will and his unrelenting silence. An almost collective sigh of frustration washes over the sweating media men. _No more, indeed._

In a nearby corner, a bespectacled man smokes a half-consumed cigarette while a hooded man looks on at the scene before them.

"Does he know that we can understand English better than most?" The smoker says in a hushed whisper.

"I don't think so." The looker replies.

"Well then," The smoker says as he plucks the cigarette out of his mouth. "It's time to do our job, Yukio."

"Right."

They push themselves out of the corner and into the foreigner's direction. They put on masks because it looks cool, it looks threatening; dressing themselves up as robbers when they're trying to be heroes.

Well, they are actually just robbers.

Memory Man and Mental Man.

Kawabata Yasunari and Mishima Yukio.

Two men, one newspaper columnist and one out-of-school genius, who met by circumstance thanks to a certain man who wanted to start a support group.

"Hello." Yasunari greets the foreigner in perfect English, "We're here to rob you."

"Take what ye want, I ain't got any fer'ya!"

Yukio comments (in Japanese) with a deadpan expression, "Rob me all you want, you hoodlums."

Taking offense at that statement, the man rushes a fist towards Yukio's face, but stops immediately, paralyzed at the touch of Yasunari's fingers on his cheek.

"The Master of Go."

"Yes. We'll rob you, alright." Yukio says with a small smile as Yasunari's eyes flash a bright shade of green.

* * *

His name is Kawabata Yasunari.

He is a brilliant man; a newspaper columnist on most days of the week, working at a nine-to-five schedule, and on some days a world-class thief who calls himself by a cheeky pseudonym, Memory Man.

This is one of those days.

"Kawabata!" Abe Kobo bursts through the café doors and heads towards the bespectacled man seated in a booth, reading a newspaper and ignoring the already lukewarm cup of coffee on the table. "Just the man I wanted to see!"

Today must be Wednesday, Yasunari thinks. The city outside the café is quiet at the early afternoon hours. Everyone must still be at work, except for him, Kobo, and the rest of the people the man has managed to attract to work and dine in his small, quaint establishment.

Most of which were ability-users just like them.

Wednesdays were a slow day, and only him, Kobo, and Mishima were usually present at this hour. If he didn't have work, that is. If he did, only Mishima would have to bear with Kobo's tasks, and Kobo would have to bear with Mishima's misuse of his ability. Later, Masakatsu, Yoko, and Kenzaburo would join them, along with the daily grind of customers coming from school and work.

"You see him everyday, Abe-san." says the cheery Yukio from behind the counter.

"But today is different!" Laughs the older man. "Today I have a special task just for you."

Yes. Today is definitely a Wednesday.

"I'm too lazy to bother going, so I'll have you do it for me." Yukio pipes in. He's unusually cheery today, Yasunari thinks.

"Mishima-kun!" Kobo scolds him.

"Sorry." The young man apologizes with a shrug and a chuckle.

"Anyways," He returns his attention back to Yasunari, who so far has no reply, "Would you do it?"

"Depends." He mutters, turning the page.

"There's a pretty big sum involved if we get the police what they're after."

"I'm not interested in money." He replies without looking up.

"A headliner, then?"

He pauses reading and still in his seat. In all his time working as a columnist, he's rarely dreamed of becoming a front-page reporter. He likes being where he is, but thinks that Abe Kobo could actually get him to the front page, get his name all over the industry, make him famous, make him wanted.

Unless Kobo meant the front page of a tabloid.

But in the end, he agrees to it, placing the broadsheet on the table in front of him and looking at the older man in the eye, a stiff grin on his face. "You always know the right words to say, Kobo-san."

To which Yukio cheekily reveals to actually mean, "Fucking geez-"

"Yukio!" Yasunari stops him.

"My abilities are out of control, y'know?"

Yukio always had a knack for lying.

* * *

Three minutes and fifty-seven seconds was the length of an average pop song. It was also all the time Yasunari needed to complete a job. Yukio begins the timer on his cellphone, albeit a few seconds short, and sets the clock to 3:50.

Would that be enough time to scour through one's head? How does Yasunari know what to find and where to find it? How did he find out that he could only do this for around four minutes? Did he time himself? If he forgets something, can he do it on himself? Had he used it to cheat on an exam, or on anything?

Yukio keeps himself preoccupied by asking such questions. How useful his ability is, he thinks. When the alarm rings, Yukio steadies a fist against the foreigner's jaw before delivering a punch straight to his face.

The foreigner falls to the ground and Yasunari straightens himself before adjusting his glasses. Yukio rubs his knuckles with his other hand. Yasunari sees the body in front of them and sighs, turning to Yukio.

"You know how unnecessary that is." He states.

"You are the rain on my parade." Yukio muses. "Find anything?"

Yasunari grins. "Nothing."

Of course, Yasunari has found everything they were tasked to find, and then some.

Yukio replies with a smile of his own. "Good."

On the way back, Yasunari wonders if hijacking the man's credit card would be worth anything, but decides against it. For now.

He always had a good memory, after all.

* * *

On her way to the hospital, Fumiko sees an unconscious man lying on the sidewalk. There is no one else on the street and she remembers the doctor's words, _"at least one good deed..."_

"This guy's going to be my quota for the day." She mutters as she approaches him.

She crouches, leans over him and checks his pulse. He is still breathing. He is still alive. She begins checking for any blunt trauma to his head, any cuts or bruises, but she finds nothing. She begins nudging the man, tries to wake him as gently as she can.

"Thieves! Robbers!" He exclaims in English as soon as he wakes, jolting upright and startling Fumiko.

"Are you alright, sir?" She asks in English. "What happened?"

"I've been robbed!" He stands upright, albeit a bit shaky.

"Can you describe them?"

"One had six arms, and the other had four eyes!"

She is taken aback. "What-"

"They went into my head, the monsters!" He starts shouting. "They took something, I can't remember what, but they took something from me!"

"Was it a wallet? An ID?"

"They took something from me!" He begins again.

"I'm sorry, sir." She stands up, "but I can't help you."

She leaves the panicking foreigner, feeling only the slightest bit of sympathy for him. No matter, she thinks, there will always be an opportunity for her to do good in the hospital. She only feels the slightest bit of fear at the thought of the rampaging Rashomon monster to show himself again.

"Curse this ability." She frowns.

* * *

Yasunari and Yukio return to the café.

"I didn't do anything to ruin that face of yours." The bespectacled man walks forward, leaving the younger man slack-jawed.

"Yasunari!" Yukio whines loudly, knowing what Yasunari meant, "You made me into some octo-freak?"

"I had to test it." He replies. "It had to be something vivid, something strong."

"You're going to give him nightmares for days." The young man sighed.

"That's the idea." He smirks.

The man behind the counter greets them with a warm smile.

"You've returned. Everything went well?"

"Of course, Abe-san." Yasunari returns to his booth. "Since when have I failed you?"

Yukio shrugs and goes to sit on the counter, eyeing Kobo narrowly, seeing what the older man is going to reply.

"Yes, Kawabata-kun." He merely intones. "You have never failed me."

Yukio looks away.

It's just another Wednesday after all.

* * *

 _"The Face of Another."_

He used to be an actor.

Before that, a doctor.

And even before, a salesman.

"I've lived so many lives." He had said in an interview before. "So many that I begin to wonder if I had lived at all."

Before he was a salesman, he was a collector.

"I'm so fascinated with insects." He had written on the backside of a photograph of his beetle collection. "Kafka, have you read him? Metamorphosis is such a feast."

And before, a child.

"I had books for toys, you know." He wrote in a letter. "Most children my age had building blocks in their hands. I had mine in my head."

Abe Kobo has been through so much in his life, sometimes he wishes he were someone else.

"Oh, right." He once told himself cheekily as he examined his wrinkles in the mirror. "How could I be someone else when I am not even entirely, wholly, completely my own?"

He watches his face change in the mirror, morphing into smooth skin, dark skin, freckled skin, watches his eyes change from brown to green to blue to white, hears his voice grow deeper, higher, thinner, watches his hair grown and change color, shorten and grow thinner. He is the man with a thousand faces and a hundred voices, but sometimes he fails to remember.

"Is this what I really look like?"

Abe Kobo has always had the face of another.

* * *

His name is Abe Kobo.

"Where are you really from, Abe-san?" The young Mishima Yukio asks him.

"I'm from nowhere."

Yukio smirks. "Machuria's pretty far, isn't it?"

He frowns, it seems that even a change of voice wouldn't deter Yukio's ability.

"Why move to Yokohama? Out of all the places in the world."

"Yokohama or bust." He replies in English, laughing at Yukio's confusion. "I grew tired of Tokyo. Got my medical degree there, after all."

"You were a doctor?" Yasunari spoke up, clearly in disbelief.

"I was, but I never practiced."

"You never, or they didn't allow you to?"

"Now, now, Kawabata-kun!" He laughs. "You make me sound morbid."

"You are, old man." Yasunari retorts. "Keep on changing faces and you'll track of your own one."

"Don't get him started," Yukio warns.

"My own face?" Kobo voices out. "What is my own face?" He asks jokingly before turning to Yukio, copying his face.

"I think this suits me better, yeah?" Kobo says in Yukio's voice. "Be the young, impudent Mishima Yukio, right? I think I'm doing a better job at it."

"Yasunari!" The real Yukio cries out, evidently perturbed, "Make him stop!"

"Yasunari!" Kobo mirrors him. "I think you're the best!"

"Like I'd ever say that!" Yukio retorts.

"Can you repeat that, old man?" Yasunari pipes. "I'd like to record it."

He knows fully well that it would annoy Yukio to no end.

"Stop being so full of yourself, Yasunari." Yukio rolls his eyes. "And you-" he turns to Kobo, who is still wearing his face, "Wear Yasunari next and say, I'd be nothing without you."

Yasunari glares, "Yukio-"

"Fair's fair." The younger man shrugs with a smirk. "Would you really be able to do shit without me?"

Yukio's clever grin and Yasunari's annoyed glare make Kobo feel that, yes, this is just a regular Wednesday.

* * *

"They went on without me."

His name is Edogawa Ranpo. Today is a Wednesday, and it's almost four o'clock in the afternoon, that much he knows. He is standing on the sidewalk. In front of him is a street not-so frequented by vehicles. To his left is a lamppost. To his right is a trash bin. Behind him is a café. Above him is the Yokohama sky. Below him is the Yokohama pavement. Around him is the Yokohama air.

He doesn't know where he is, period.

"They left."

He sighs.

There is only one thing to do.

 _"Super Deduction!"_

That, or to knock on the café door.

 _Tak-tak-tak_

"What?" A young man greets him, looking annoyed.

"I'm lost." He says.

"You're lost?" The young man asked. "Where were you headed?"

"To the Armed Detective Agency."

The young man blinks twice before pulling him inside and shutting the door.

"Abe-san!" He calls out. "He's looking for the Armed Detective Agency!"

"Ah, a customer!" Almost immediately, a much older man emerges from behind the counter, wearing a bar apron. "Welcome to Abe Kobo's Café in the Dunes! Sit, please."

Ranpo takes a seat at one of the tables, taking his time to look around the interior of the place; all warm colors and woodsy textures, it almost feels as if he's brought into a simpler time where one would stoke the fire in order to keep warm and drink warm milk straight for the cow.

Maybe not the latter.

But what catches his eye is the collection of beetles and butterflies hanging on one of the walls.

"That is my prized collection, dear sir!" The older man notices him. "I've spent my entire childhood collecting them all."

"Childhood?" Ranpo echoes. "It's an interesting hobby. Why did you decide to leave it?"

"Some things are better left in the past." The man says. "But where are my manners! What would you be having today?"

"By any chance," Ranpo stands from his seat. "Would anyone know how to ride the train?"

The younger man points to a bespectacled man sitting in one of the boots, quietly absorbed in the newspaper he is hiding behind. He lowers the newspaper slowly and looks at Ranpo critically.

"You don't know?" The man scowls.

"I didn't bother to learn such a trivial thing." Ranpo confesses. "My big brain can only hold so much."

"What-"

The door swung wide open and a woman stood at the threshold briefly scanning the room and quickly approaching Ranpo as soon as she spotted him.

"Ranpo! There you are!" She grabbed his wrist and started leading him out.

"I apologize for whatever this lunatic's caused you." She mutters as an apology as she drags him out the door.

The door closes, but they could still be heard:

"Yosano-san! You came back!"

"Ranpo, what did I tell you about wandering off on your own?"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Yosano-san!"

"No shit."

* * *

Yukio and Yasunari looked at each other.

"Ranpo?"

"Yosano?"

To which Kobo answered, "They're the Armed Detective Agency, alright."

The two looked at him briefly before going about their usual routine. Yasunari returned to scrutinizing the newspaper. Yukio returned to his phone. Kobo, however, thought about how he had lost an opportunity to offer their services to the Armed Detective Agency.

"My name is Abe Kobo." He would have said. "And I have a group of ability-users who are willing to help you, what do you say?"

But first, he needed to call Oe Kenzaburo.


	4. double suicide

**Abe Kobo's Coffeeshop Friendship Circle**

* * *

 _"My name is Abe Kobo, and I'm looking for ability users. If you're interested, please come to the old coffeeshop downtown; that's where we meet during Wednesdays. It's more of a support group than anything."_

 _AU: Imagine Bungou Stray Dogs with (a lot) more characters._

* * *

 _"Even if it was to be pure masquerade and not my life at all, still the time had come when I must make a start, must drag my heavy feet forward."_

 _Mishima meets Dazai for the first time._

* * *

Yukio was standing against the railing of a bridge, looking at the still water below him. He grips his hands around the metal and breathes evenly. His knees feel like buckling below him, but he maintains control. He closes his eyes and allows himself to breath deeply.

"Are you going to jump?"

 _Let me join you._

A voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he exclaims, "What the fuck!"

He instantaneously steps away from the railing and regains his balance on the fourth step.

"Careful." A man behind him laughs before patting his back. "Wouldn't want to fall alone, right?"

Yukio springs away from him, and comes face-to-face with a handsome man slightly older than himself. His face flushes out of embarrassment.

"No." He mutters. "What-who are you?"

The man shrugs. "Just a concerned citizen, that's all."

 _Were you really going to jump?_

Yukio startles himself on finding the truth behind the man's words.

He avoids the man's curious gaze. "Mind your own business, then."

He doesn't see the man's frown as he asks, "Were you really going to jump?"

But the truth behind his words sends a shiver down his spine.

 _Pity._

Yukio turns to face the man again and sees a blank, curious expression his face, as if he's waiting for something to happen.

He stutters as he tries to decipher the man's intentions. "That's none of your business."

When he begins walking away, the man calls out after him, "What if I make it my business?"

Yukio pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, but the truth behind the man's words ring loud in his head.

 _I would have jumped in with you if you were a woman._

"Creep."

Yukio scoffs-ha, if only he were a woman!

When he is a good distance away, however, he looks back and sees that the man has already left.

Yukio wonders then, that if he were a woman, what course of action the man might take. Would he have jumped in as he said he would? Would he offer him his name? A handsome man like him…

"Would do anything to save a beauty." Yukio concludes with a slight frown.

* * *

Today is a Thursday.

On Thursdays, Yukio finds himself wandering the streets of Yokohama, biding his time until 3:45 in the afternoon, and then making his way to Abe's coffeeshouse where he will meet with Masakatsu and they'll talk about their lives until six or seven in the evening, and he'll accompany Masakatsu to the station and wave him goodbye before going home.

His Thursdays are usually terribly routine.

He can't wait until Masakatsu arrives with stories and gossip and his bright smile, sharp jawline, and piercing gaze. Sometimes the only thing he looks forward to every week is Masakatsu coming all the way from Tokyo to visit him.

On this Thursday, however, he meets Enchi Fumiko in a convenience store. Or rather, she meets him.

She notices him first, and recognizes his face. "You're-!"

"I know." He cuts her off. When she doesn't continue, he dares ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a break." She says, looking back at the rows of packaged food before her.

He notes that she is wearing a white shirt, a pair of white pants, and an impossibly white pair of sneakers. Her short hair is pinned back and tied to one side. In one hand, there is a pack of candy. There is a nameplate pinned to her chest with her name on it and 'Yokohama Medical Center.'

"You work in a hospital?" He thinks aloud.

"I'm a nurse." She says, picking out a box of chocolate cookies from the shelf before turning to him, "What about you?"

He shrugs. "I'm nobody."

She nods once. "Huh."

She makes her way to the cashier and he follows her, making small conversation as she pays. "The hospital is far from here."

"Three blocks aren't that far." She replies, taking the box and quickly opening it as she leaves the store.

He decides to buy a snack of his own, a tuna-and-egg sandwich and a can of cola. He steps out of the store and sees that she's still there, chewing on her food as if waiting for him.

He blurts out, "Can I join you?"

And she looks at him skeptically. "To the hospital?"

"I need a prescription." He says. "And I've got nothing else to do, anyways."

She frowns, feeling a tinge of jealousy. "Good for you."

She steps forward and he follows until he's beside her. There is a few seconds of silence before she realizes that she hasn't introduced herself properly, seeing as they met in the most unlikely of circumstances. She wipes the crumbs from one of her hands on her leg and reaches the same hand out to him.

"Enchi Fumiko." She says with a mouth half-full of cookies.

He reaches out a hand to grasp hers and replies with a mouthful of his own food and a particularly welcoming smile. "Yukio."

He wonders if he would introduce himself the same way, if his ability was activated, but decides not to for the rest of the time. It's a Thursday, after all, and on Thursday Yukio wants to feel like an average, ordinary out-of-school genius.

* * *

If Kawabata believed in the power of memory, Mishima believed in the power of lies. That's what makes the two of them such a wonderful team, according to Abe. Yasunari's controlled persona acts as the perfect foil to Yukio's enigmatic personality-the brilliant journalist and the out-of-school genius. Or as they would call themselves, Memory Man and Mental Man.

Yasunari could read through people's minds.

Yukio could read through people's words.

 _"Confessions of a Mask."_

One of the first things Yukio learned upon activating his ability for the first time was that people were incredibly easy to read. They were like the picture books from his childhood; everything was laid out in front of him and he was free to make do with the images. Most of the time, he would cut out these pictures and fashion himself a collage, create a brand new story of his own. And his parents would scold him for destroying such books.

Later, Yukio's childhood would evolve into that of picture-less books filled with words upon words upon words that he finds so incredibly boring, not because they lacked images to tantalize his mind, but because he couldn't picture them as clearly as he would with images.

"What does frustration look like?" He would ask, and they would reply, "I don't know, son."

And when he got a little bit older:

"What does lust look like?" would be answered simply with blank stares and muttered pronouncements of: "You're too young, Yukio."

 _That's a bad thing to think about._

So he would frown as he realizes the truth behind their words, and he later on connects the pieces of his daily conversations together and figures a set of definite reactions to a number of concepts. People then seem like a puzzle to him of a vivid image with defined lines and vibrant colors. They're so easy to solve once you've had a taste of the truth.

Later did he know that the truth could get you in trouble.

"He's mad at you because the girl he likes like you." He spoke to a grade-school classmate before.

"That's not it. I'm mad at you because you're so annoying!"

 _Why did Yukio say that? I should punch him!_

That day, Yukio went home with a bruised shoulder.

"What happened at school, son?" His mother asked.

"I told the truth and I got hurt."

"At least you told the truth, that's what's important."

The same conversation repeats until Yukio grows too sore and too tired, feels his weak body shaking when he heaves his way back from school.

"It's always easier to lie, Yukio." Masakatsu told him during their middle-school orientation. "That way, I won't get into fights that often."

 _That way, you won't get so hurt anymore._

Sometimes the truth is a burden. Most of the time it's his alone.

* * *

Yukio likes Fumiko's company. It's a break from his Thursday routine. She seems nice and makes easy conversation. He finds out that she's his age and has graduated from a vocational college studying general medicine. He wonders why she didn't pursue a formal degree on it, but doesn't ask, decides to shift the conversation to another topic.

"I'm an ability-user." He says.

"So am I, and I'm not interested."

He ponders her words for a moment, but remembers Abe's invitation. It seems she hasn't thought about it yet.

"I can tell you're lying."

Actually, he can't.

"What are you, a mind reader?"

He smirks. "A foolproof lie detector. "

She laughs a little at that. "You must be fun at parties, then."

"I am." He nods.

"Probably explains why you look a lot older than you really are."

He thinks it nice that his Thursday afternoon seems a bit more refreshing, and Fumiko is better company than the Yokohama crowd. He seems the outline of the hospital, a white building surrounded by trees, and wonders where she works there.

She breaks their silence, "I'm still not interested in whatever you and that other guy have."

"Abe-san's a good person." He dares saying, "He wants to help, just like you."

And it's true for the most part. Abe has founded a small gathering of ability-users who act as modern-day, super-powered Good Samaritans. He and Kawabata, for example, just gave information to the police to incriminate the foreigner from before. Raicho, as another example, a chef famous for her grilled chicken and seared salmon, has used her ability to save a child in a fire. Social media went wild, proclaiming her 'Masked Rider' persona a hero. They're just normal people with the heart to help and the powers to do it.

Fumiko's answer doesn't surprise him.

"I'm helping enough, thanks."

So he decides to do as what Masakatsu would.

"But you could do so much more."

Fumiko doesn't respond kindly. Her tone, bitter. "You could always do more, but you don't. That's life."

He frowns at her sordid expression. He couldn't help but agree.

 _I keep disappointing you, don't I, Masa?_

* * *

His name is Mishima Yukio.

He's the youngest of Abe's group and also the hardest one to find, at least according to Kawabata. Abe never asked how he found him, and Kawabata never answered, but it was obvious enough that Mishima was hiding himself, having dropped out of university and spent most of his time wandering the streets of Yokohama with his hands in his pockets and his hood over his head.

Luckily, Kawabata knew how routine Mishima's life is, and 'accidentally' bumps into him in one of the coffeeshops he visits on Tuesdays. Before he could apologize and step aside, Abe greets him with a solemn smile.

"My name is Abe Kobo. Kawabata-kun and I are looking for ability-users."

 _You thought you could hide yourself, didn't you?_

At that moment, Yukio looked scared. Could they be from the government? Are they here to take him away? Yasunari quickly presses his finger on Yukio's nose and Yukio finds out, then, that he is not alone.

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"My name is Kawabata Yasunari."_

 _"You're an ability-user?"_

 _"The Master of Go allows me to project myself into people's mind and read their memories. I'm not reading yours right now."_

 _"How can I be so sure?"_

 _"You're using your ability, aren't you?"_

When they return, he is shocked and releases a gasp of air. He sees Abe's smile and looks directly at Yasunari. "How did you find me?"

"Kawabata-kun has excellent researching skills."

 _He's a genius, just like you._

Yasunari closes his eyes and smirks, and Yukio feels an uneasiness in his body.

"I'm sure you two would get along quite nicely."

 _Don't you feel so terribly alone?_

He averts his gaze to Abe and questions him, the unease suddenly disappeared. He scowls at the particularly suspicious man.

"What do you want?"

At that moment, Abe places his hand on Yukio's shoulder, speaks to him clearly, "Let's use our abilities to help people, Mishima-kun."

 _I want to take down the Port Mafia._

It was one of the times where the truth appealed more to him than the actual words.

Yukio removes his hood as a sign of his being unafraid of them, proclaims with a grin, "Count me in."

He had contemplated on ending his life earlier that day, but realizes how fun it would be being with this ambitious elder and this older genius. Call it macabre, but Mishima thinks he wouldn't mind dying in the company of these two.

* * *

His name is Dazai Osamu.

There is a barrel of a gun pressed to his head and he wishes how it were real, how it would really feel if he was on his knees before his captor, begging and pleading from his bloody mouth that they spare him. He closes his eyes in pleasure and imagines the sound of the bullet echoing through an empty room, thinks about it will pierce his skull and end him permanently.

But he wraps his hand around the assailant's wrist and says with a deep frown,

 _"No Longer Human."_

He gives a loud cry before collapsing on the floor. Kunikida stands over him with a stern look, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. Dazai can't seem to stop crying.

"Quit it, Dazai."

"You cheated me, Kunikida-kun!"

He nudges Dazai's arm with a polished shoe. Sighs. "You and I both know that this isn't real."

Dazai springs up, asks innocently, "Well, what if it was?"

Kunikida's frown dips lower into his face. "You wanted to see the extent of my power."

Dazai smiles brightly. "At least now we both know that you can summon a gun."

"An empty one."

"Why not summon a loaded one?" He asks as if it's such an easy thing to answer, like a child asking why the sky is blue.

Kunikida scoffs, looks at Dazai directly. "And what, kill you?"

There is an uncomfortable silence on Kunikida's part before Dazai is up on his feet and nearly out the door. He says for a goodbye:

"You say the sweetest things, Kunikida-kun."

* * *

Yukio finds it strange that a doctor's office would be found on the sixth floor. When they reach the door, Fumiko reveals from her pocket a key and proceeds to unlock the door. Yukio wonders, why would a doctor lock his own office?

"Dr. Osanai." Fumiko greets.

A middle-aged man appears from behind a curtain and sounds breathless. "Enchi-kun, you're back!"

"I have what you ask for." She raises a plastic bag, the one she was carrying from the convenience store.

"Our new patient would be delighted!"

"Candy? New patient?" She pieces the two together. "You aren't a pediatrician, doctor."

"It was an offer I couldn't refuse!" He exclaims.

Yukio watches Fumiko sigh and head towards the doctor before disappearing behind the curtain.

Yukio whispers jokingly to the man, "Held at gunpoint?"

The doctor sighs. "You have no idea, young man."

 _You're absolutely right._

Yukio's glad his shock isn't visible on his face, nor is his ability that flashy. He mutters, "I think I actually do, sir."

Fumiko shows her face out of the curtain, looking exasperated, "What am I supposed to do, Dr. Osanai?"

"Keep watch over our patient, please, Enchi-kun."

She looks back into the enclosure before turning to him with an incredulous look on her face. "A child?"

"Thank you." The doctor smiles.

Fumiko groans and returns to behind the curtain. A little girl's laugh is heard.

The doctor sits back down on his desk and asks Yukio, "Are you one of Fumiko's friends?"

He doesn't know how to answer. "No. I-"

Fumiko calls out from beyond the closed space, over the mutterings of the girl with her, "He needs a prescription. I figured I could help."

"How kind of you to accompany him, Enchi-kun." The doctor replies before turning to Yukio, "What can we can do for you, young man?"

Yukio reveals a rumpled piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to the doctor. "Here."

Dr. Osanai reads through the paper with a growing frown. Yukio is used to this, he's always been a sickly boy.

* * *

On Thursday afternoons, Abe expects another visitor to his coffeeshop that is also part of his group, but is different. His name is Morita Masakatsu. He is what Abe describes to be Mishima Yukio's best and only friend.

"Kobo-san." The bright-eyed, golden-haired youth greets him as he passes the door, speaking above the hum of the afternoon grind.

"Masa-kun." He greets in response. "You're here early."

"It's past four." Masakatsu takes a seat at the counter, and looks around for familiar faces. "Where's everyone?"

"Kawabata-kun had to cover an event. Rai-chan had an extra amount of customers at her restaurant. Nagai is still doing his lesson plans for tomorrow." Abe omits two names on purpose, but Masakatsu doesn't ask further.

"And Yukio?"

"He went out. You know how he is on Thursdays."

Masakatsu rest his chin on his palm and comments, "He must be so bored without anything else to do."

"He's a genius, Masa-kun." Aba laughs. "Geniuses get bored easily."

The younger man sighs. "He could have applied to the university with me."

"You're a great friend, Masa-kun." Aba says endearingly, "Having gone all the way from Tokyo just to see him."

It's Masakatsu's turn to laugh. "If I didn't know him, I'd say he got himself a date."

Abe feigns surprise. "Yukio? Impossible."

"With his salty good looks?" Masakatsu gives a wide grin. "You underestimate him, Kobo-san."

"He's used to being underestimated all his life. You know that, Masa-kun." Abe watches Masakatsu' laugh die down. "And it is only by underestimating him does he become better."

Masakatsu agrees, nods before saying, "I'll be taking the usual, Mr. Barista Man."

* * *

When Yukio leaves, Dr. Osanai approaches the door to lock it, but is stopped by a familiar voice.

"Dr. Osanai."

"Ah," The doctor stumbles back, and the door swings open the reveal the man he was frightfully waiting for. "Dr. Mori!"

The said man stands beyond the threshold, an ominous figure against the bright hallway, an intimidating being against the backdrop of an empty hall. Dr. Osanai could picture the deserted hallway and two of Mori's men standing on either side of his door as if preventing him to escape.

"Please, that was such a long time ago." Mori strides in. "You know I'm not a doctor anymore."

"Force of habit." Osanai laughs nervously. "You have come to fetch Elise?"

"Yes, among other things." He takes a seat.

Osanai couldn't stop himself from stuttering. "What is it?"

"Has Hashioka Mariko been admitted to the hospital lately?"

The name is oddly familiar. Yes! That murderous criminal from a few days ago had sought her. But Osanai knew better than to deny Mori completely. "Not that I know of recently…"

It is true, and he hopes Mori would accept. He swallows a hard gulp.

"I see." Mori places a gloved finger on his chin in thought. "Well, if she is ever admitted to the hospital, do contact me immediately."

"Of course!" Osanai exclaims almost too quickly. "May I ask why?"

"I have business with her."

"Ah." Osanai nods before calling out, "Enchi-kun! It's time for Elise-chan to go home!"

And immediately a girl wearing a velveteen red dress comes out of the curtain, followed by a tired Fumiko.

"Rintarou!" The girl runs over to Mori.

"Elise-chan!" He leans down towards her, patting her lovingly on the head. "I'm sorry for having left you alone for so long!"

"Fumiko-chan kept me company, but don't you ever do that again!" The girl scolds him.

Mori smiles, before standing upright and looking towards both Osanai and Fumiko. "Thank you for your service."

"It was nothing, Mori-san! I am glad to assist you anytime." Osanai replies quickly.

When Mori and the girl leave, Osanai approaches the door cautiously, looks to either side of the hallway, and shuts the door. He releases a shaky breath as he turns the lock.

Fumiko notices the doctor's apprehension. "Who was he, doctor?"

"An old colleague." The doctor straightens himself. "A brilliant man. Quit the hospital after a while, though. Said there's too much death around."

Fumiko is slow to respond, but her answer makes the doctor frown. "He's not wrong."

* * *

Yukio walks across the same bridge from earlier that day and spots the same man, exclaiming to himself, "You!"

"Oh, it's you from earlier!" The man turns to him with a smile. "Have you reconsidered?"

"What?"

The man approaches him, stops just an arm's length away and says with utmost innocence, "Committing suicide."

Yukio wonders what got into him that made him stay shocked-still in his position, shakes his head vigorously, "What-no!"

"Well, if you do, here's some advice; you can't have a double-suicide alone."

The man continues to elude him, and Yukio dares ask, his tone intimidating, "What makes you think I want to commit a double-suicide?"

The man smiles before stepping closer as Yukio instinctively backs away. He almost trips over his own feet, but the man is quick to pull him up by the neckline of his shirt, using his momentum to whisper in his ear,

"Death is such a lonely thing, isn't it? Wouldn't it be wonderful to spend at least a second of it with someone else?"

Yukio shoves the man away, feels a flush coming to his face. "No thank you."

"Ah, so that's how it is." The man watches as Yukio steps aside to continue on his path. "Wait!" He calls out.

And Yukio stops. "What?"

"My name is Dazai."

Yukio blinks. Dazai blinks. The silence is apprehensive. It's as if they're waiting for something to happen.

Dazai remarks with a lopsided grin, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again."

To which Yukio responds by placing his hood over his head and muttering, "Fucking creep." as he walks away.

If he could have activated his ability, then he might have known the man's intentions with introducing himself.

Yukio frowns.

"Dazai." He mutters to himself. "Who the hell are you?"

He thinks he should ask Kawabata to do some research for him, gets out his phone and proceeds to text.

[MENTAL MAN: I need you to look up something for me.]

[MEMORY MAN: Can't you do it yourself?]

[MENTAL MAN: Do you know anyone named Dazai?]

[MEMORY MAN: Ask Kenzaburo.]


	5. the cat

**Abe Kobo's Coffeeshop Friendship Circle**

* * *

 _"My name is Abe Kobo, and I'm looking for ability users. If you're interested, please come to the old coffeeshop downtown; that's where we meet during Wednesdays. It's more of a support group than anything."_

 _AU: Imagine Bungou Stray Dogs with (a lot) more characters._

* * *

A/N: So it took me almost a year to get things going in my head. Sorry. I had to update myself with what was happening in the manga and think of a way to make this story make sense in my head, so there. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

* * *

 _"So tell me-what can I possibly do, from where I am now, to get back at god?"_

 _Oe Kenzaburo is the one behind it all._

* * *

Yukio returns to the coffeehouse and greets an orange-haired man who had just sat down to have his afternoon coffee. He is dressed in a simple attire befitting a physical education instructor of one of the high schools in Yokohama.

But Yukio knows that his outfit is only a disguise.

"Oe-san."

The seated man sighs. "Don't make me sound so old, Yukio."

"Whatever." Yukio rolls his eyes as he takes the seat from across him. "Help me find somebody."

The man is Oe Kezaburo, and he looks at Yukio cautiously, knowing full well of Yukio's intentions to pick a fight. "Why not ask Yasunari? Or Shusaku?"

Yukio looks around, frowns a little before replying, "They're not here."

Kenzaburo's quite shocked to see the absence of Abe's regulars, and blinks before asking, "This is illegal, isn't it?"

And he replies with a swift. "This isn't illegal."

Kenzaburo looks at the young man in front of him and sighs again, knows that he can't deny a request completely, especially given Yukio's ability. He asks, "Who are you looking for?"

"His name is Dazai."

A pause. Kenzaburo takes his cup and drinks.

"I don't know anyone named Dazai."

"Your ability does." Yukio interjects. "Well, it can."

Kenzaburo shakes his head. "I'm not using my ability. And how are you even sure that I can find him?"

"Gut instinct." The young man replies.

"No." Kenzaburo refuses to believe him.

Yukio huffs. "Don't be coward, Oe-san."

"I'm not using my ability." The older man grounds out.

"Why?" Yukio frowns. "If I had your ability, I could be the most powerful of all of us."

Kenzaburo looks at the younger man in disbelief, looking briefly to Abe, who was watching with a knowing gaze.

"Yes." Kenzaburo thinks to himself. "You would be."

Yukio knows that Kenzaburo was the one who found him, not Abe, not Kawabata. He's the one that started it all; he was the ignition behind the vengeful spark in Abe's eyes, behind the determined glare in Kawabata's, behind the hopeful glint in Endo's. Kenzaburo is the one behind it all. If anything, he should actually be the one leading them.

Not Abe Kobo.

* * *

But why would they even need a leader? They weren't a group supported by the government. Well, not yet, as Abe Kobo still has to finish the necessary paperwork. Mishima and Kawabata still needed to "talk" to the right people. Inoue still needed to pay his debts. Enchi still hasn't decided on whether or not to join...

Hell, the government doesn't even know about them.

That is, until Abe Kobo met Oe Kenzaburo.

Their little group began the day Abe Kobo noticed that a certain Kawabata Yasunari had visited his coffeeshop for the fifteenth time in a row. Sure, the young man was always dressed quite nicely, and ordered the same brew, what owner wouldn't get to know a customer like him?

As it turns out, Kawabata was hired as a private investigator by a certain someone who wanted to verify if their significant other is having an affair.

"You aren't trained as a PI, aren't you, sir?"

Of course, Kobo knows that Yasunari was a newspaper columnist, a writer, not some detective.

Kobo's face deliberately morphs into the face of Yasunari's target for the briefest of seconds, and the younger man is so shocked that he almost drops his mug.

"It's you."

"Oh, no. Actually, your target moved to a different coffeeshop a few blocks away from here. It seems you have been found out."

"Master of Go."

The moment Yasunari's fingertips touched Kobo's hand, time stops, and Kobo finds his first recruit.

"I'm an ability user, just like you. And I want to form a support group."

And then came along Endo Shusaku, who had "accidentally" used his ability on a street thug as Yasunari was passing by, then Hiratsuka Raicho, who thought her paralyzing an overly-flirtatious drunkard in front of Abe was subtle, and then they met him.

"An Echo of Heaven."

And then, Abe Kobo's support group became the facade for something none of them had ever dreamed of, all because of Oe Kenzaburo.

"You have quite the ability, Abe-san. Do you have any interest in working with the government?"

Oe Kenzaburo is a government agent, but he doesn't think of it that way. He doesn't have a gun, or fancy suits, or a nice car, but he does get a nice stipend at the end of each month, and he is in-charge of his own schedule, be it working for eight hours each day, all days of the week, or working for only two hours for the entire week.

All he has to do is to go around Yokohama, after all.

Go around Yokohama and find ability users just like him.

"Why would I be interested in working with the government?" Abe Kobo's face morphs into Kenzaburo's, his tone mocking.

At that point, Kenzaburo closed his eyes and listed Kobo's ability with a certain air of calculatedness, as if he had studied such an ability all his life. He points out his ability's strengths and weaknesses as so:

The Face of Another is an ability that allows the user to copy a person's face, provided that he has seen them, their voice, provided that he has heard them. He further explains that his ability would also allow him to transform his entire body into that of another person's so long as they have seen the person in their full height.

"However, the transformation is only on the surface level, unless you have seen the person completely naked."

Kenzaburo wonders, at that time, if this man has done so.

"A brilliant observation, Oe-san. I assume the government has kept their tabs on me? But for what reason? I'm just an average old man."

"That is my ability."

Kobo's face morphs back into his own. He is utterly shocked.

"I understand your surprise, Abe-san, but the government has been planning to create a specialized covert operations team.

Abe pieces two and two together. "And you want us to be a part of it."

"Exactly."

* * *

"His name is Dazai."

If he had a choice, Kenzaburo would have chosen to be a clairvoyant, or a healer; he would find the lost, heal the sick and the broken. But he didn't have a choice, he was merely born with an ability to distinguish people like him from the rest, read into and dissect abilities once he's seen them. It's an ability born for a mastermind, he thinks.

He knows Yokohama has a negligible population of ability users, and based from his knowledge, there could only be one in about a hundred and forty-seven. What could the chances be that this Dazai was an ability user like him, like them? What are the chances that this Dazai wasn't a part of the Port Mafia?

"Anything but the Port Mafia." He muttered to himself as he walked out of the coffeeshop.

Kenzaburo has had run-ins with the mafia before, thankful that his position as a government agent merited him protection and immunity. He has even invited to have tea with the mafia boss himself, Mori Ougai.

* * *

It happened four years ago. In truth, the government had expected it sooner or later. Given that Kenzaburo's ability gave the government an edge over the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency, either one (or both) of the other parties would extend an invitation for Kenzaburo to switch to their side.

Kenzaburo eyes the envelope on his desk.

"It's from the Mafia."

The man across him looks up from his computer, chuckles slightly, "I wouldn't be in a position to say no, Oe-san."

That man is the young, bespectacled Sakaguchi Ango, the assistant counselor of the Special Ability Department, and Kenzaburo's... superior? Perhaps on paper he is, but Kenzaburo's position as the case analyst of the department is a position on paper, too. In reality, Kenzaburo is the head of another department, the Special Ability Covert Operations Department.

...which is yet to be formed, by the way, as the higher-ups are still discussing amongst themselves whether to push through with the creation of such a team.

"You have a job in there, right, Ango-san?" He asks. "What's he like?"

Kenzaburo knows the danger Ango has placed himself in, knows that any slip-up would likely cause his death.

"I rarely have the chance to talk to him, but I'd say he's the type to get what he wants."

So Mori Ougai is _that_ type.

He hums. "I see."

"Well, thanks for the advice, Ango-san." He stands from his seat, quick to wear his coat and pocket the letter inside it, "I better get going then."

What Kenzaburo doesn't know, however, is that Mori Ougai already knows that Ango is working for the government, and that he was the one tasked to deliver the letter to him.

When Kenzaburo heads for the Port Mafia's headquarters, he didn't expect the address on the letter to lead him to high-rise in the heart of the city. But, as all bosses, Mori Ougai's office is at the very top of the building, where large windows offer him a view of the city, his empire.

"Oe Kenzaburo!" Ougai exclaims from his seat, a wide smile on his face. "What a delight to finally meet you in person!"

Or was it a smirk?

Mori Ougai is a terrifying person, he thinks.

He bows deep from his waist, greets the boss formally, "Good afternoon, Mori-san."

A laugh erupts from Ougai's mouth. "You can drop the formalities, Kenzaburo. I just wanted to invite you for tea."

As if on cue, the elevator rings, and a woman pushes a cart containing an expensive-looking tea set, and western sweets. And as she arranges the items on the table before Ougai, Kenzaburo takes this opportunity to survey his surroundings. He already knows that there are two ability users in this room, the first one being Ougai, and the other one being...

He closes his eyes to hone in on the second one.

It's the boy behind him. The boy with bandages.

And his ability is...

"What tea would you prefer?" Ougai's question causes him to open his eyes.

 _Damn._

"Whatever you're having would be fine."

Ougai smiles knowingly. He's heard of Kenzaburo's ability, and knows that he had already used it while on the elevator ride to the top floor.

Tea is poured into a cup, and Kenzaburo's eyes don't falter as they meet Ougai's.

"If you don't mind me asking, Mori-san, why did you invite me?"

"Can't a man just want to make friends?"

"Well, it depends." He shrugs. "If it is as you say, then you have no need to station guards behind me."

There are three people behind him, two are armed guards, and the boy.

Ougai takes a sip of tea. "Just a precaution. Can't be too careless, nowadays."

Can't be too careless? Kenzaburo's ability is not at all an offensive type, nor does he have the fighting ability.

"Why have you called me here?"

"I want to make you an offer."

 _There it is._

"Usually, if one would make an offer to a government official, they would offer wine, not tea." Kenzaburo though aloud.

"Wine comes after." Ougai laughs. He likes this man's sense of humor. "I want you to join the Port Mafia."

 _Bingo._

"Ah." Kenzaburo mouths silently. He blinks. "And if I refuse?"

Ougai leans back in his seat. "Your government position allows you to walk away unharmed, but I will not make the same offer again."

Kenzaburo is very much thankful at that moment, but Ougai's hardened stare is enough to send chills down his spine.

Yes. Mori Ougai is a _very_ terrifying person.

But Kenzaburo doesn't let his fear become known, instead clears his throat in an attempt to sound as unfazed as he wished he could, and meets Ougai's eyes. "I'm a simple man, Mori-san. Whatever you offer, I am in no mind to accept it."

He gives him a smirk to add to the effect, "The government pays me well, after all."

But later on, when he steps out of the building, he exhales exasperatedly. That might have been the most difficult thing in his life.

But he still feels bad that he didn't get to discover the bandaged boy's abilities, though he is sure that it is a powerful one, if not one of the most powerful he has ever encountered.

How dangerous, he thinks.

* * *

Back in the present, Kenzaburo's head is filled his thoughts and ideas as to why the young, I-don't-like-dealing-with-people Mishima Yukio is so keen on finding this Dazai, so he calls him up as he walks the streets of Yokohama.

"Yukio, do you think this Dazai is an ability user?"

The younger man on the other line is quick to answer, "No."

Yukio prefers texting, anyway.

"Then I can't find him."

"Well, why don't you try it?" Yukio responds grumpily, "He has this look. It's like he knows."

"Knows what?"

"Something."

Kenzaburo shakes his head. "You aren't really helping me out here, Yukio."

"Just try it! Maybe he is an ability user."

Yukio is the first to hang up.

"Fine."

Kenzaburo thinks that if Dazai were an ability user, what would make Yukio so interested in him? He gives himself a deadline of three days. If he hasn't found Dazai by then, then he would move onto his next objective:

Find this so-called tiger that haunts Yokohama's streets at night.

* * *

But he doesn't expect to meet the tiger first.

"Beast by the Moonlight."

Perhaps the government was testing him, perhaps the government wants to see if such a team of ability users operating directly under them would be feasible. A few days ago, Yasunari and Yukio had acquired pertinent information on the tiger, from a foreign businessman no less, that someone hired the Port Mafia to find it.

Strange, why would anybody hire an entire group to hunt down an animal?

As it turns out, the tiger was no ordinary tiger.

It was human.

And his name is Nakajima Atsushi.

But Kenzaburo doesn't know that yet, so when he bumps into a short, young man on the street, muttering:

"So hungry..."

Something clicks in his head, and he uses his ability for the briefest of moments, his dark brown eyes flash yellow.

This boy is an ability user.

"Hello." He greets.

And the boy reacts instinctively, screaming, "Ah!"

But Kenzaburo is unfazed, blunt, asks him, "Would you happen to be named Dazai?"

"No, I'm Atsushi." The boy introduces himself. "Nakajima Atsushi."

He's dressed in a plain white attire, looking something like a uniform.

Kenzaburo extends his hand, "It's nice to meet you, Atsushi. I'm Oe Kenzaburo."

"Nice to meet you!" Atsushi smiles.

"You are..." He blinks, noticing the dirt of Atsushi's face and body. "Are you alright?"

"No..." Atsushi blurts out, but it quick to counter with, "Yes, I am! Sorry."

Kenzaburo sees a spark of power in Atsushi, and thinks that he could use this opportunity to hire him, so he asks, "Are you hungry?"

The boy lowers his head and replies meekly, "...Yes."

"Well, let me treat you to a nice meal, Atsushi."

That came out creepy.

So, of course, Atsushi replies, "No, I couldn't–"

Kenzaburo looks around and asks him, "Where are your parents, by the way?"

"They are..."

But before Atsushi could answer him completely, his phone rings.

It's Yukio.

He's calling him.

He never calls anyone except for the gravest of emergencies.

So this must be very important.

"Sorry." He says to Atsushi before answering the phone, "Yukio, please–"

"I found him!" Yukio was shouting into the phone, "I found Dazai!"

"You did?"

He hears Yukio hum in approval, sounding proud of himself, before the revelation:

"He might already be dead, though."

It takes Kenzaburo one second to process that statement, before he erupts.

"What!"

He feels bad for leaving Atsushi, but makes sure to leave Atsushi in a restaurant with enough money to pay for three meals, and his calling card.

 _81-45-XXX-XXXX_

 _Oe Kenzaburo_

 _Case Analyst, Special Abilities Department_

 _Japanese Ministry_

* * *

(Of course, Kenzaburo's number isn't XXX-XXXX, I just want to be safe and not actually type some person's number)

A/N: Oh, wow. Okay. It took me a full week to write this. I'm still shookt about the latest chapter. The Decay of the Angels? Such a strong reference to Mishima, yo. Anyway, feedback is much appreciated, folks. Thanks for reading.


End file.
